Words of Wordsworth
by LadyMongoose
Summary: Can Duo face up to a challenge issued by a fellow classmate - a poetry competition? And memorize Wordsworth as well? With the help of Heero and an obliging spoon, he just might. **YAOI**


Disclaimer: These characters do not belong to me and I am making no money doing this. The proper owner of Shin Kidousenki Gundam Wing and all its characters is Sunrise (I think). I have not altered or harmed them in any permanent fashion.   
  
Notes: I wrote this a long time ago, and posted it to several lists, but seeing as I've just made up my mind to join FanFiction.Net, I'm going to put it here too. If you haven't read it, enjoy!  
  
Warnings: This story is YAOI 1x2, with a little citrus (cioè, implied sex but no graphic stuff). There is silliness, seriousness, and probably OOC-ness.  
  
  
  
Words of Wordsworth  
by LaMangust  
  
Duo stared sulkily at the piece of paper in front of him. I can't believe I have to do this. The only reason he had to do it in the first place was that the teacher was a complete and total old bore of advanced age who looked like he had been dead several years already and Duo's overactive brain had not been able to follow his dull, droning voice. It wasn't his fault at all...  
  
  
(That morning...)  
  
Laaaalalaaaaaaalaaaa... the little man in his head sang, for lack of anything better with which to occupy itself. His face was resting in one of his hands, the other on the book in front of him, barely listening to the lecturing professor. The tiny person in his head was now singing merrily as he spun in dizzy circles, slamming into the sides of his scull several times.  
  
"...Maxwell?"  
  
Duo looked up quickly, trying to recall if his brain had registered what the teacher had been asking him. "Huh? Yeah?"  
  
"Would you mind repeating what we just said about the importance of structure in a poem?" The aged professor had that gleam in his eye that assured Duo that the old man knew he couldn't answer the question.  
  
"It's... important?" he ventured.  
  
"Sorry, Maxwell. Wrong answer. Please see me after class."  
  
Oh, boy...  
  
The bell rang at that moment, and Duo cursed it for not having come just 30 seconds earlier.  
  
"Alright, everyone. One fourteen line poem for tomorrow, based on the structure we talked about today. Maxwell, come up here."  
  
Duo walked slowly to the front of the room, trying to be nonchalant as he felt the weight of impending doom descending on his head. The professor watched him over the top of his bifocals. "Maxwell," he began in a reproachful tone, and Duo knew what was coming, "you simply do not pay enough attention in class."  
  
"Yes, sir," said Duo, figuring that the more he agreed, the faster he would be out of there.  
  
"I have been noticing this behavior for some weeks, and it simply cannot continue."  
  
"Yes, sir."  
  
"You need to understand the importance of what it is I'm trying to teach you in this class."  
  
"Yes, sir."  
  
"So, I want to you memorize this poem tonight. You will recite tomorrow before the rest of the class."  
  
"Ye... wha... what?!?"  
  
"Hopefully, it will be enough to keep your mind on the lesson from now on."  
  
Duo stared dumbly as the teacher handed him a sheet of paper with a long poem on it. "Tomorrow, Maxwell, or this is going to become much more serious." His tone was the knell of doom for Duo's afternoon...  
  
  
  
  
  
Duo stared dejectedly at the paper before his nose, thinking about how long it would take him to remember the stupid thing. He knew he could simply not do it, but the English teacher seemed the type to make trouble if he felt he needed to, and Duo had no desire to have certain things about his life revealed to anyone in the school, especially the administration. The fact that he was a Gundam pilot, for example, and routinely snuck out of the school to complete missions that included killing people and destroying property, instead of the clean-cut, well-bred young man they had on record.  
  
So he looked at the paper. He stared at it, trying to burn the image of the words onto his brain. It was funny how he had such a memory for some things, such as tactics and systems, but couldn't remember a poem to save his life. With a resigned sigh, he gave up and began to read, looking for the first time at the title.  
  
Lines Composed a Few Miles above Tintern Abbey, on Revisiting the Banks of the Wye during a Tour, July 13, 1798.  
  
Gee, what a title. Could it have been much longer?  
  
It was going to be a long night.  
  
  
  
  
  
"Yah!!"  
  
Duo crushed the paper in his fist and hurled it across the room, to the desk where Heero would have been, had he been there. Duo pounded his fist into the bed. "I can't do it!" he howled.  
  
He knew that Heero would have been able to help him, or at least distract him for a little while, but the other boy was away God-knew-where, and Duo was left talking to himself in the small dorm room.  
  
He didn't want to memorize that poem. He didn't want to write a poem. Especially not write one. Another stupid mess.  
  
But that was a situation he had gotten into all on his own...  
  
  
  
  
  
(That afternoon...)  
  
His day had not been going well in the first place. He was still chaffing about the poetry recital, he had gotten to the lunch line last and had been forced to eat a cold hot dog, and Heero had disappeared after English class, nowhere to be found.  
  
He couldn't help it. There was only so much bragging and insults he could take from someone before they went from his "good" list, past "neutral" and "bad," immediately to "destroy." The homicidal instincts encouraged by life as a fighter and survivor told him to go for the arrogant prick's throat, but the logical part of his brain that had somehow survived these 16 years curbed them, leaving only bravado to help his injured pride.  
  
He knew that his classmate, Charles, had been talking badly of him, and he had just now overheard one of the detrimental conversations himself. The idiot had insulted his English! He absolutely could not let that pass!  
  
"He simply cannot write a line! That last assignment. Oh, my! I had the misfortune of reading it, and it was simply awful! No structure, no clever turn of phrase! Indeed, not fit for a class such as ours..." The things leaving the arrogant boy's mouth were digging him in deeper and deeper as Duo approached his target. The students facing him saw Duo coming up behind, and tried to send subtle hints to their friend, but he was unobservant and ignorant, as all braggarts are, and did not perceive Duo's presence until he was face-to-face with him, the much smaller Gundam pilot holding him by his collar and snarling in his face.  
  
"If you want to say something bad about me," Duo growled, "kindly say it to my face so I can kick your ass!" Something in his mind said that that had not been the ideal choice of phrase, but he really didn't care at by that point. Charles' face was shocked and slightly embarrassed at having been caught, but he did not let Duo get the upper hand.  
  
"I only say the truth. Your writing style is one of the most elementary I have ever had the misfortune to read. But it's all right. I can help you, if you wish." The patronizing way in which the last sentences were said enraged Duo further. And, as usual, he retaliated without considering his words.  
  
"I..." he growled, "write in a manner someone of your limited skill could never understand. And I can certainly write a better poem than you." He knew it was petty, but he didn't have much to fall back on.  
  
The other boy's face turned sly. "A challenge then? What about the poetry assignment for tonight? Who gets the better grade wins and the loser must admit defeat publicly. What do you say?"  
  
"Sounds good to me."  
  
  
  
  
  
The extreme stupidity of his words bashed Duo repeatedly over the head until he was grabbing at said part of his body with both hands, trying to make the reverberations stop. He sat back and glowered at the room, looking for something to intimidate. Something that couldn't get him into more trouble than he was already in.  
  
It finally presented itself in the form of a metal spoon brought from the cafeteria a while ago and never returned. The hapless spoon was a easy target, and soon found itself in Duo's inescapable clutches.  
  
  
  
  
  
He inspected the unassuming piece of silverware critically, scrutinizing its smallest detail with a serious air. Finally, satisfied, he nodded happily. "Great! How would you like to help me with my English homework, o wondrous eating utensil?"  
  
The spoon, predictably, ignored him.  
  
Duo frowned. "Impertinent, eh? Well, you get to hear my poetry whether you like it or not. I need something to talk to, and you say about as much as Heero, maybe a little more. He has got you beat in certain areas, however..." he smirked, trying to reign in his wandering thoughts.  
  
The spoon chose not to comment on that.  
  
Duo struck a dramatic pose, the spoon held before him, the other hand held out to it in an expressive manner. He began the part of the poem he remembered. "These beauteous forms / Through a long absence, have not been to me / As is a landscape to a blind man's eye: / But oft, in lonely rooms, and 'mid the din / Of towns and cities, I have owed to them / In hours of weariness, sensations sweet, / Felt in the blood, and felt along the heart; / And passing even into my purer mind, / With tranquil restoration: feelings too / Of unremembered pleasure..."  
  
He paused, considering the words. "You know," he said conversationally to the implement in his hand, holding it closer to his face, "that's really true. About so many things." His serious gaze suddenly exploded into a joyful smile. "I did it! I remembered part of the poem! Woohoo!!"  
  
He flopped onto the bed, smiling happily at the object still clenched in his hand. "Thank you, you wonderful little spoon!" He picked the paper up, intending to read and, hopefully, remember, some more, keeping the lucky spoon in a tightly clenched fist.  
  
  
  
  
  
Two hours and numerous recitations later, he knew it. He did a joyful little dance around the small room, stubbed two of his toes, and sat down on the floor, grinning widely at his dear new friend the spoon, ignoring the fact that it was being less than congratulatory.  
  
"Great job, Spoon! One more time, and we can go and celebrate! Okay..."  
  
  
  
"Five years have past; five summers with the length  
Of five longer winters! and again I hear  
These waters, rolling from their mountain springs  
With a soft inland murmur. Once again  
Do I behold these steep and lofty cliffs,  
That on a wild secluded scene impress  
Thoughts of more deep seclusion; and connect  
The landscape with the quiet of the sky.  
The day is come when I again repose  
Here, under this dark sycamore, and view  
These plots of cottage ground, these orchard tufts,  
Which at this season, with their unripe fruits,  
Are clad in one green hue, and lose themselves  
'Mid groves and copses. Once again I see  
These hedge rows, hardly hedge rows, little lines  
Of sportive wood run wild: these pastoral farms,  
Green to the very door; and wreaths of smoke  
Sent up, in silence, from among the trees!  
With some uncertain notice, as might seem  
Of vagrant dwellers in the houseless woods,  
Or of some Hermit's cave, where by his fire  
The Hermit sits alone."  
  
  
Duo heard something that sounded suspiciously like a snort and paused, looking up at the door to see... Heero. He was smirking. Duo immediately blushed, grinning to try and hide his embarrassment at having been caught reciting poetry to a spoon. He opened his mouth, but Heero spoke first, silencing him.  
  
  
"These beauteous forms,  
Through a long absence, have not been to me  
As is a landscape to a blind man's eye:"  
  
  
As he spoke, he moved into the room, shutting the door behind him and looking Duo over possessively. The long-haired pilot got over his surprise quickly, his eyes narrowing and a smile creeping slowly up his face as he realized just what Heero was referring to.  
  
  
"But oft, in lonely rooms, and 'mid the din  
Of towns and cities, I have owed to them  
In hours of weariness, sensations sweet,  
Felt in the blood, and felt along the heart."  
  
  
Heero paused, standing in front of Duo. The other pilot ran a hand down his lover's chest, purring softly, "Why, Heero. I never knew you knew Wordsworth."  
  
"You never asked."  
  
Duo laughed. "No, I guess I didn't." He licked his lips and leaned toward Heero. "Did you know that I think poetry is very romantic?"  
  
"Hn," smirked Heero, "really?"  
  
Duo jumped on him.  
  
  
  
Later, they lay together in the dim light of the desk lamp, Duo's head resting on his Heero's bare chest. The violet-eyed pilot was about to let himself drift off to sleep when he felt the rumble of Heero's voice in the body beneath him.  
  
"Therefore let the moon  
Shine on thee in thy solitary walk;  
And let the misty mountain winds be free  
To blow against thee: and, in after years,  
When these wild ecstasies shall be matured  
Into a sober pleasure; when thy mind  
Shall be a mansion for all lovely forms,  
Thy memory be as a dwelling place  
For all sweet sounds and harmoniess; oh! then,  
If solitude, or fear, or pain, or grief,  
Should be thy portion, with what healing thoughts  
Of tender joy wilt thou remember me,  
And these my exhortations!"  
  
  
Duo listened to the words, recognizing them as the end of the poem he had been made to memorize, and knew that the warm feeling infusing his body meant that this particular poem would never be forgotten. He kissed the underside of Heero's jaw, and settled back into the comfort of his lover's arms.  
  
"You are incredible, koi. Yes, I will remember you, because I will always be with you." He sighed. It was that simple.  
  
Duo let his thoughts drift, waiting for sleep to overtake him.  
  
"Oh, no!"  
  
He sat bolt upright, his lover sitting up next to him, looking around for anything that might have startled Duo. Finding nothing, he looked at the violet-eyed pilot. "Nan da?"  
  
"My poem! I have to write that stupid poem!"  
  
"Huh?" Confusion was plastered on Heero's face.  
  
"I made a bet with Charles that I could write a better one than him!"  
  
"I'm sure you can, so what's the trouble?"  
  
"What would I write about?" Duo wailed. "I can't write a poem!"  
  
Heero thought for a moment before answering quietly. "I remember someone telling me that the strongest emotions that translate well into poetry come from early memories. Write about one of those."  
  
"All my memories are about war, death, and hunger. If I write about any of that, they'll lock me up and throw away the key! I'm supposed to be a normal, average boy, remember?"  
  
"What about this?"  
  
Heero's hand flashed pale in the dim light, reaching to Duo's neck to gently touch the crucifix that dangled there, in place even when he was wearing nothing else.  
  
Duo's eyes were wide. "This?" His hand followed Heero's, until the two were clasped together over the small golden pendant.  
  
"Yes. You may have something."  
  
  
  
  
  
"Thank you, Maxwell. You did exceedingly well!" The old teacher was obviously pleased with Duo's recitation. Duo, for his part, had not broken eye contact with Heero throughout the entire thing. He was feeling pleasantly warm, and returned to his desk pleased with himself.  
  
The professor smiled at his students, "And now, class, you are each going to share your original poem with the rest of the class. I will give the grade according to style, message, structure, and recitation. Let's see. Why not have Toyoko go first?"  
  
One by one, the students stood and read their sonnets to their classmates, some doing well, others not so well. Charles' poem was fill of pomp and arrogance, just like everything else about him. Heero's was surprisingly good, though spoken in the same unemotional voice he always used around people. Finally, it was Duo's turn. Well, I worked hard on this. Here goes nothing...  
  
  
  
"In giving life another life is given  
Taking noble dreams and hopes which striven  
For sometime do now with memory pale.  
Leaving emptiness and living stale.  
Desert winds my inner strength do shake  
Leaving ghostly spectres in their wake.  
Loss and loneliness take hold my soul  
I struggle drowning, praying to keep whole.  
Your hand descends, reaching out to mine  
To pull me to thy countenance divine.  
Time pass and death become known to us all,  
You stand there still, gilt in holy light.  
And when then I join thee in thy golden hall,  
All past error shall be made aright."  
  
  
He smiled as he finished, looking around at the stunned faces of the class. The teacher also looked very impressed. "Excellent, Maxwell. Very nice, indeed. I'd say that that was by far the best poem." Duo smiled and flashed Heero the victory sign across the room. He also noted that Charles's face was becoming a very dark shade of red.  
  
  
  
  
  
That evening, Duo bounced into his room, happy as a pig in mud. "He said it! He said it, Heero!" He jumped around once more before falling heavily on his bed to stare at breathlessly at the ceiling. Heero walked calmly in after him, not saying anything, with a small smile on his face.  
  
Duo regarded him with an annoyed glance. "Oi, aren't you going to say anything? You're about as talkative as that spoon..."  
  
He sat up, looking around the room quickly. "The spoon! Where is it?"  
  
"You mean the one you were talking to yesterday? I decided it must have been a little homesick, so I returned it to the cafeteria."  
  
Duo's eyes widened and began to vibrate. "You what?! That was my spoon! My best friend and my muse!"  
  
Heero raised an eyebrow. "Oh, really? I thought that was me."  
  
Duo immediately smiled. "Well, since you put it that way. You'll just have to make it up to me!"  
  
With that, he jumped on Heero, tumbling him onto the bed, and intending to show him just how far his displeasure stretched.  
  
  
--OWARI--  
  
Please comment! (If you haven't already, naturally.) Flames will be laughed at and used to keep me warm, as I can't get the heat to work. 


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